Scenes
by Feste the Fool
Summary: An unconnected series about various parts of Pevensie life. Latest up: A humorous little scene featuring loud teachers and dirty fighting. The title says Ode, but it isn't—there's just lots of Poets in here.
1. Edmund's First Great Success

Peter stared, open-mouthed, at the scene before him. Edmund lunged at Groul, who dodged and aimed a swipe at his back. He rolled out of the way, rising onto the balls of his feet, ready for action. He saw Peter and relaxed. Strange, considering Peter was forbidden from Edmund's training ground. "Hullo, Pete," he called.

Groul gasped, whirling around. Edmund leaped onto her back and pulled the leopard's ears, whooping victoriously. "I've beaten you, for once!"

She sniffed. "Don't get cocky." She rolled over, pounding him into the dust and eliciting a few yelps of alarm from the younger king.

Peter had always been insanely curious about Edmund's training. It was the only thing he wasn't _allowed_ to know about, and it galled him. That day, he decided he didn't need to know about it at all. He was safer sticking with Oreius' regime—and that was saying a lot!


	2. Paravel

**Disclaimer-that-I-forgot-in-the-last-story:** I'm alive and C. S. Lewis is dead. That kind of makes me not-him, doesn't it?

**Title:** Paravel  
**Length:** 280 Words  
**Summary:** Peter has fallen head-over-heels in love, but will Edmund ruin it?  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** At the end of _Masks, _I mentioned a name—Paravel. I thought you guys would like to know who she was and why she lived with the Pevensie's.

* * *

Whenever Lucy wanted something, she got it. Even as a nineteen-year-old living in Finchley with her brothers. The two of them loved her too much to deny her.

When Edmund wanted something, he had to watch his step. He had Peter wrapped around his little finger, yes, but Lucy had sense and would turn him down in an instant.

When Peter wanted something, he went to Lucy. Lucy would take his side and Edmund would have no choice but to accept. Edmund argued too much.

Just like now.

"No. Oh, no. By Aslan, no, Peter," the boy said warningly, ignoring his brother's pathetic look.

"But Ed, please," Peter pleaded, glancing into the building with a devastated expression. "I _need_ her."

"Yes, well, do you need all the trouble she's going to cause? You just take one look into those devil eyes. Anyone could see she's got a Calormene's heart!"

"No she doesn't. And I'll make sure she doesn't get her into trouble. I can change her, really I can. Please? I'll do anything!"

Peter looked as if he was about to drop onto his knees in pleading. Edmund turned away with a sigh. "No, Peter. For the absolute last time, _NO!"_

Peter was silent for a moment, the pout obvious on his face. Then, he brightened and turned on his heels. "Lucy! I have a question for you!"

Edmund groaned and raced after him. "No, Lu, he doesn't! Ignore every word he's saying!"

Half an hour later, Lucy was just as besotted with the young lady as Peter was. Ten minutes after that, Paravel the Wolfhound puppy had found a new home in Peter's bedroom…and a new bathroom in Edmund's.

* * *

**Thank you Shizuku, aravis riddle, and LucyofNarnia for reviewing. You guys rock! To answer your question, riddle, They're so short because they're only meant to be glimpses into Pevensie life. If you want to read a longer one, feel free to request one. Anyone, please. Request a theme/plot/problem for a Scene. I'd be more than happy to write it for you. This is a reader's choice story!**


	3. Puppy Problems

**Title:** Puppy Problems  
**Length:** 300 Words  
**Summary:** Edmund said the dog would be trouble...and he was right!  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Everyone seemed to really love Paravel, so I thought I'd do another scene with her as the star. There will be more pets in the Pevensie's lives, but unless I get a request, this will be the last animal story for a few days.

* * *

"PETER! PETER, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I RIP YOUR DOG'S HEAD OFF!"

Samuel Peterson winced as he stepped up to the door of Pevensie place. He knocked on the door, almost positive his knocks were drowned out by answering cries of "TOUCH MY DOG AND YOU'LL REGRET IT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, ED! I MEAN IT!" He was about to knock again when the door opened.

Lucy Pevensie stood in the entryway. "Hello, Sam. One moment, please." She leaned back and turned toward the staircase of the large house. "I'M SURE EDMUND MEANS IT TOO—no, Paravel, down! PETER! YOUR DOG JUST ROLLED ON THE COUCH!"

"THE COUCH? SHE'S CONTAMINATED THE COUCH? I'LL KILL HER!"

"EDMUND!"

"Puppy problems?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Look for yourself," she answered, pulling him inside. Sam glanced into the living room. A thirty pound wolfhound pup grinned at him, upside-down, from the couch. He could barely recognize her under a layer of caked-on muck and grime. There was a peculiar smell issuing from her fur as well.

"Apparently, she decided to roll in the streets after the parade was over," Lucy said, shaking her head. "Heavy rains, tons of mud, polluted puddles, horse droppings…"

"Ah," said Sam knowingly, grinning at the dog. "A regular troublemaker. And I suppose she immediately went to Edmund's bed?"

"As usual," said Lucy, reaching for the leash by the door. "I'm glad you stopped by. You can help me walk her. Peter's on her side now, but there's no clue what will happen when he sees what she did to those papers he was sorting—"

"PARAVEL, MY LETTERS! I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

"That's our cue," she said as thundering footsteps sounded upstairs. "Come on, girl, let's go for a swim. Sam, grab the soap."

* * *

**Last chapter's reviewers were Shizuku, Liv Tinuviel, and LucyofNarnia. You guys are the greatest! Don't forget to send me any requests you have, via review, PM, or e-mail. **


	4. Weakness

**Title:** Weakness  
**Length:** 383 Words  
**Summary:** Lucy is considered the strongest Pevensie—but even the strongest of heroes has a breaking point.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Well, I'm still stuck on _Masks_ and I've been fleshing out _Graced_ when I got curious. At one point in _**Graced**_, Roger receives a letter that says Peter was injured. I thought, what was Lucy thinking after this? I was torn between writing this scene and a mushy love scene between Roger and Susan...and decided to go with this one. Hope you like it.

* * *

Lucy dropped her pencil onto the table with a small cry of dismay and frustration, stifling a sob as she buried her head in her hands. There was an immediate sound of a chair scraping the floor in the background and light footsteps coming toward her. "Lucy?" said Roger, putting one hand on her back and dropping to his knees beside her. "Lucy, what's wrong?"

She pulled her head up and shook it.

"Lucy," he insisted, rubbing her back. "It's all right. Tell me."

The girl drew in a shaky breath and turned to face him, her eyes wild with doubt and fear. "I just c-can't. I can't-t sit here and d-do school work like n-nothing's wrong."

"Oh, Lucy," Roger said, pulling her from her chair and into his arms. She curled up against his chest, sobbing, and he briefly wished Sam were there. Sam was better with Lucy than he was.

"This was never supposed to happen," Lucy said through her tears, letting _all_ her doubts out. "Why Peter? Why did Aslan not sweep him away to Narnia before the car hit him? He does love us, doesn't he? Why did He send us away? Why won't he protect us?"

_Now_ Roger was scared. He'd seen Peter lose faith. He'd seen Edmund lose hope. He'd seen them both break down and sob into the other, just as Lucy was doing now. But he'd never seen Lucy even waver, not for a single second. She was holding it all inside and it was building up, just as Susan's was. Roger's arms tightened instinctively. He couldn't let that happen to Lucy. An image rose, unbidden into his head—Edmund sleeping in a chair next to Peter, who lay broken and ill in some strange hospital far away. He swallowed, thankful that they were not here to see Lucy's moment of weakness on top of _those_ worries.

"Lucy," he said softly into her ear. "He loves each and every one of us. But England isn't Narnia. He can't dive in front of cars and chase children into rivers here. And if you ask me—I'd say you were sent away because Narnia wasn't ready. He's preparing it. Maybe someday you'll return."

Lucy relaxed and her sobs quieted. Roger smiled, knowing he'd said the right thing.

* * *

**Augh, they just keep getting longer! I marvel at everyone who can condense an entire storyline into one hundred words. LucyofNarnia, Shizuku, and Liv Tinuviel, thank you for reviewing. You guys are the greatest!**


	5. Stories

**Title:** Stories  
**Length:** 257 Words  
**Summary:** Lucy has some issues while volunteering at an orphange.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Absolutely none at all!

* * *

" 'Once upon a time there were three little pigs—' "

"Come on, I've heard this story a thousand times!"

Lucy sighed in frustration. Sometimes she hated her volunteer job at the orphanage. She picked up another book. "All right then, George. We'll try something different. 'Once upon a time, there was a girl whose mother was a baker. The little girl was foolish, however. One day, the mother baked five pies and put them out on the windowsill—' "

"Yes, and the prince came and locked her away until she was rescued by learning the name of the little black furry thing. I know this story by heart."

"All right." Tom Tit Tot went into the "rejected" pile and she picked up the next storybook. " 'Once upon a time, there was a village called Hamelin with an enormous rat problem—' "

"And all the children disappeared," George said with a yawn.

Lucy snapped the book shut, reaching the end of her patience. "Okay, George. What do you want? I've tried almost every book here, and you've like some kind of story."

George shrugged. "I just want a good story that I haven't heard before, Miss Lucy. That's all."

Lucy went still for a moment. A grin broke out across her face. She leaned forward to draw him into the story and in a dim whisper said, "All right. I'll give you a story. Once upon a time, there was a great and mighty kingdom where it was always winter and never Christmas…"

* * *

**Aha! Getting shorter again. Thanks so much to Shizuku and Liv Tinuviel for reviewing. **


	6. Loving the Sun I

**Title:** Loving the Sun, part one  
**Length:** 250 words  
**Summary:** Edmund muses on sunshine and love.  
**Reason to my Rhyme: **When reading reviews from _Graced of Aslan,_ someone drew my attention to the fact that I have never mentioned Edmund's girl. I thought I had...and then I looked back and nope, no trace of her. Today was the day I describe in the story: it was absolutely marvelous. Me and my sister went for a walk and I tossed my jester sticks around and enjoyed the sun... and the idea hit me. This will be the first two-shot of _Scenes; _Myrtle's POV will be up later.

* * *

It was amazing to Edmund just how much his girlfriend of three years loved the sun.

He smiled as he walked through the field of daisies. It was the first warm, wonderful day of the year, and it was a sure bet that she would be in the field, basking in the sun. She naturally gravitated towards the warmest, brightest thing in the room—during the winter months she could often be found at hanging around Peter.

She paused by every brightly lit window, every warm fire, every well-grown garden. She loved sunshine so much that he often wondered why on earth she had fallen for _him._

He stopped at the center of the field where there was a springy bed made of daisy clippings and spring grass. He looked down with a grin, taking in her quickly-tanning skin, closed eyes, and silky black hair floating behind her head in a gentle halo. She was smiling, and her smile widened when his shadow fell over her face.

"Hello, Myrtle," he said cheerfully. "Mind if I join y—" He yelped in surprise as she sat up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down into the grass beside her.

"You can always join me, Edmund, love," she sighed happily, resting her head on his chest.

Edmund closed his eyes in pure contentment, enjoying the lazy heat. For whatever reason, he was glad she'd chosen to stop loving the sun long enough to give her heart to a cold shadow like him.

* * *

**Now, to my reviewers! Liv Tinuviel, Shizuku, and LucyofNarnia! Thank you so much, guys, for reviewing and enjoying my obvious ending last chapter! Chapter three of Graced should be up in a couple of days. Also, choir concert last night was magnificent...even if one of my friends almost did pass out. Mix of sinus infection, heat, and nerves. She's fine now. **


	7. Loving the Sun II

**Title: **Loving the Sun, part two  
**Length:** Too long... 415 words. My muse clearly does not understand the concept of a drabble.  
**Summary:** Myrtle muses on the sun, love, and various other celestial bodies.  
**Method to my Madness:** The rain has come to springtime, making me unhappy. I wanted to think about sunshine some more, so I finished up the second half of the sunny pair.

* * *

Myrtle Hanover smiled and burrowed deeper into her bed of daisies, reveling in the feel of sunlight on her skin. She had always loved the heat and light of the sun—until she met the Pevensies, she had believed she loved the sun itself. Now, as she thought about it, she knew that wasn't true.

Perhaps it was the way the Friends of Narnia and other graced seemed to glow.

The instant she met Lucy and Aminda, she had unconsciously compared them to bodies of light, and each vastly different. Minda was the moon in every way. She observed, absorbed, considered, and reflected. She cast a bright light, but it was almost never her own.

Lucy was a star, continually smoldering, burning, twinkling. She was hardly ever anything but bright and brimming over with joy. Perhaps that was why she and Sam got on so well—each was white-hot in their own way. While Lucy was a star, Sam was a comet; burning brilliantly and igniting the sky, but only for a moment before it passed again.

She had always considered herself to be more of an earthy sort. And Roger was the wind—everywhere at once, blowing over and into everything, ruining plenty and creating just as much.

It was Edmund, the sky, she loved. He brought everything together in one place, no matter how far apart they were. He saw everything, and understood what he saw. Lucy shone through him, Minda made him glow, Sam tore through him, Roger blew around him, and Myrtle herself was encased in his heart forever, just as snugly as the earth to the sky.

The sun also pierced the sky in its search for darkened corners to fill. That wasn't always a good thought, nor an easy one.

A shadow fell across her face as she considered this and she smiled more widely, simply _knowing_ immediately that it was Edmund. "Hello, Myrtle," came his pleasant, gentle voice. "Mind if I join y—"

She did not let him finish, but sat up at once and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the ground beside her. She snuggled into his shoulder and sighed happily. "You can always join me, Edmund, love," she whispered into his ear, feeling him relax. The two did not move for a long time, doing nothing save enjoying the peaceful afternoon.

_Perhaps that's why I always pitied Minda a little,_ she thought with a small frown. _It must be__ dreadfully difficult, loving the sun.

* * *

_

**Thank you LucyofNarnia for telling me that you were the one who called me on not noticing little Myrtle! You can all thank her and Wednesday's weather for the inspiration behind this two-shot. I wish I could recognize last chapter's reviewers, but it's the middle of the night and I'm going to bed. -.-**


	8. Depression

**Title:** Depression  
**Length:** 200 words  
**Summary:** It's been a year since the Witch was destroyed and the Pevensies took the thrones. With winter comes a strange change in Edmund, making him weak, sad, and vulnerable. It shouldn't have worked that way. Here's why it did.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** I found my list of one-word poetry prompts I was using to write an epic on war. I decided to try some of them out. This one was based off the word "white" but it quickly ran away from me. The next one—"red"—hopefully won't go quite as crazy!

Also, this is a tad bit darker than your usual scene.  


* * *

A year into their reign, Edmund awoke with an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He dressed and left his chambers, hoping to get an hour's practice before Peter hit the courts.

A group of fauns passed him, shouting excitedly about a new play, "How High King Peter Defeated the White Witch." The uneasy feeling grew. He decided against the training. He stood by the wall near a corner, lost in thought. A fox and a cat crossed the connecting hall, not noticing him.

"First snowfall," said the fox. "Majesties beware!"

The cat cackled. "Perhaps we should tell Cook to stock the kitchens with candy, in case King Edmund gets hungry."

Edmund didn't move for several minutes after they vanished. At last, he went to find a window. Looking out across a colorless landscape, he once more felt the piercing, agonizing remorse he associated with the previous winter. An icy cold seeped into his bones and he shivered. His spirits sank, his mind shut down, and he knew two things.

One, his crime really was unforgivable. He was better off dead.

Two, he could not be warm or happy again until the white snow melted away and all was green again.

* * *

**Thank you Shizuku, LucyofNarnia, and Bartholo so much for enjoying and reviewing the last scene, and I'm sorry it's been taking me so long to update everything. I'm hoping now that I've found my prompts, I'll be able to write more scenes, faster. **


	9. Coquelicot

**Title:** Coquelicot  
**Length:** 500 words  
**Summary:** Digging through the closet of an abandoned bedroom of Pevensie Place while turning it into a nursery, Susan Pevensie happens upon a lovely little surprise.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Continuing with my "War" prompts. This one: "Red." I decided there were too many "Red" based stories that focused on blood. Once again, this one ran away with itself, so all of you who liked the style of the last one in relation to the prompt (i.e., there hardly was one) should be happy with this. As best I can tell, coquelicot is pronounced "kō-KELL-ih-kot." I could be wrong. Feel free to correct my French.  


* * *

"What're you doing?"

Susan snatched the dress off her shoulders and tossed it nonchalantly onto the bed at the voice, turning toward it and crossing her arms self-consciously. "Nothing," she said defensively. Roger laughed and stepped forward, kissing her forehead. He knew how much she hated being caught in one of her nostalgic vain streaks. "To whom does it belong?" she asked slyly.

He chuckled again. "It's not a secret gift, if that's what you're asking. Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Susan touched the hemline cautiously. "It's _gorgeous_."

Her husband smiled softly. "It was Lucy's." Mrs. Pevensie hissed and snatched her hand away, eyes flashing with grief. "She bought it a year before they were Called Away. Myrrh forced her to go shopping with her. Lucy saw it and fell in love in an instant. Said it reminded her of you."

Susan brushed a tear away from her eye and allowed her fingers to fly over the intricately embroidered, modest neckline. "Coquelicot," she whispered.

"Come again?"

"The neckline is similar to a few gowns I had in Narnia," she explained, fingers tracing further down. "And the skirt is flared in almost the exact same style. The sleeves are cut in a way both she and I liked very much once we returned to England. It went out of fashion the same year it was in, so I only wore them that way once or twice and loved every minute. The material is softer than what most English dresses are made of, as well. Put all four together and you get a perfect, lovely dress almost tailored for me, in any country. But…it's the color more than anything."

She lifted it up again and settled it along her shoulders, admiring it once more. "Coquelicot, it's called. A sort of scarlet with a lighter, brighter, almost coral sheen to it. I adored it in Narnia. Wore it once a week. Nearly drove the tailors mad. Peter said it brightened my eyes. Edmund loved the way it showed off my hair. I did look for some clothing in England that matched, but I…I never found anything. It's a very particular shade. This…this is exact."

A tear splashed gently on the lovely red dress and Susan brushed it away, sniffling. Roger's hands slipped around her shoulders in a tight embrace. "Wear it, tonight, at the social," he whispered into her ear.

"Roger!" she snapped, breaking out of his arms and putting the dress back on its hanger. "I couldn't. It probably doesn't even fit."

"You know it does," Mr. Pevensie said. "Wear it, Su. She would want you to."

Susan went still and looked down at the dress, biting her lip. "All right," she said timidly. She took it back off the hanger and headed to the bathroom to change. She paused halfway there and turned back. "…Roger, dear," she asked slowly. "Will we ever see them again?"

He didn't answer. His sparkling eyes and mischievous smile did all the talking for him.

* * *

**Thank you Shizuku, LucyofNarnia, and Liv Tinuviel for your reviews! Tell me, which prompt should I do next; Green, Gray, Bravado, Breath, or Honesty? I can't make up my mind. **


	10. Green

**Title:** Green  
**Length:** Another 500 words, because that's a nice number.  
**Summary:** Turning back to Peter's injury from Scene 4: Weakness. Edmund is arriving at the hospital and finds another in much the same predicament as he.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** "Green" was the first prompt voted for, and as I was thinking about it and doing chores, it came to me that green wasn't just a color, but a word that means inexperienced. I wondered what would happen if one of the Pevensies met someone who was green at something they were used to. This is what came out.  


* * *

Hospital waiting rooms looked nothing like healer's wings, a fact Edmund hated and loved. There was no stench of sickness and blood in the clean hospitals of England. On the other hand, there was no kind soul who had heard of your brother and would talk you through the pain of uncertainty. Here, all were strangers, and Edmund felt lost. In fact, there was only one person in the whole waiting room who looked even _more_ lost than he felt.

He stood from his chair and moved over beside the ashen-faced boy across the room. "Here for a family member?" he asked, eyeing the boy's harrowed movements He had looked the same whenever Peter was hurt. This boy looked about Peter's age.

"Y-yes," said the boy with a slight start, blinking. "How did you know?"

"You just had the look." Edmund smiled. "Sibling?"

"Older brother. Scarlet fever." He ran his hands uneasily through his hair, then rubbed his red eyes.

"Feeling helpless?"

"Hopelessly." He smiled wryly. It did not meet his eyes. "He's always been the one who's looked after me. He's never been this…this sick before."

"It's not a crime to be scared." He watched the floor pleasantly while the boy turned his disbelieving gaze on him. "You love him, and he loves you. Neither of you has ever been in danger before—at least, not _this _much. He could be taken away from you. It's terrifying. Bottling up your feelings is not 'being strong.' It'll just cause more trouble."

The boy bristled. "What do you know about it?"

Edmund looked up at him. "I did the same thing the first time my older brother was in danger." The boy bright red. "We both got angry and blew up on each other the instant he was better. We didn't speak for weeks. It hurt us, even more than his injuries. I'm here now because he's been hit by a car. And do you know what I'm going to do as soon as I'm allowed to see him?"

"What?"

"Whether he's awake or not, I'm going to yell at him for being such a stupid prick, and then I'm going to cry into his shoulder until I can't cry anymore."

The boy shook his head, relaxing a little. "Sounds like exactly what I've wanted to do for two days."

"Then do it. You'll feel better."

"It sounds like you've done this a lot."

Edmund grinned sadly. "Unfortunately, I have. I pray to God you don't find that out whether it gets easier or not."

Both boys shuddered. "I'm Elijah, by the way. My brother's name is Simon."

"Edmund. Mine's Peter."

"_Hardwicke,_" called a nurse, and Elijah stood shakily. Edmund put a supportive hand on his elbow.

"Well, here goes," he said. "Thanks, Edmund. For everything."

"You're welcome. Good luck."

"You too." Elijah Hardwicke went to the nurse and Edmund leaned back in his chair, rubbing his own eyes and remembering when he was that innocent.

It_ never_ got any easier.

* * *

**Thank you Shizuku and LucyofNarnia. You are both wonderful. I've still got no ideas for "Gray," which was the other voted-for prompt, so feel free to give me some suggestions. Or, tell me what prompt you'd like me to use next: Bravado, Breath, or Honesty. **


	11. Humility

**Title:** Humility  
**Length:** 168 Words  
**Summary: **Back to the Golden Age. Briefly describes Lucy's brashness.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** This was partially a challenge of mine to write a story with no dialogue. I think it turned out okay. It was also based off the prompt "gray." Once again, it ran away with itself. Not much color in here at all.

* * *

Lucy did not take ill often. She was too vibrant and full of life to let any petty sickness drag her down. Even though she continually put herself in varying amounts of danger regarding infection or illness, she never caught anything. Her confidence swelled; she thought herself invincible in that sense.

Everyone else took it to heart as well. It was common fact that Queen Lucy was the healer and never the patient. She was barred from no sick ward, no matter how contagious or deadly the disease. Lucy remained untouched.

This was the reason why no one, not even Lucy herself, knew she was ill—until she rose from her bench with the others to applaud Peter's sword work, turned the color of cold ashes, and collapsed to the ground, muscles convulsing even in her unconscious state. Two terrifying weeks later, she was out of danger and, for the first time in her thirteen years, thoroughly humbled.

Her valiance returned much more quickly than her siblings' nerves.

* * *

**Thank you so much for your reviews ChroniclesofNarniaGoTandSJA, kissoftheblackrose, Hiddenfilly, and Shizuku! **

**For those of you waiting ever so patiently for the next chapter of Graced, hang on because it'll be a bit longer. Not too very much, hopefully. See, on top of doing some experimentation in the next chapter to get into each character's voice a bit better, I have end of year stress getting piled on me all of a sudden, and on top of that, our middle school burned down. You can read about it in my brand-new, only used once as of now, Live Journal account. Yeah, I have a blog now, finally. Go to www. thebeastherself. livejournal. com, without the spaces of course. And if you see a Questing Beast, Glatisant, The Beast Herself, or Lady Pendragon around another site anywhere, it just might be me!**

**Long story short, while the stress of what to do with the displaced middle grades continues, I'm almost too worn out to write. Almost. A little more time and I should have it.**


	12. Nom de Plumme

**Title: **Nom de Plume  
**Length:** 400 Words  
**Summary:** A Second Generation Pevensie writes a story.  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Much the same as the last, except my sinus infection is slowly getting better. I don't know whether to label this as a crackfic or a "what if" or a Super!AU. Also, a later Scene will explain about Lewis Young, as they haven't quite decided in my head yet just how they came to know about Narnia in the first place. Lewis Young Sr. is Roger's first cousin. Lewis Young Jr. is is second. I wasn't sure, having never written the SecondGen Pevensies before, but it seems that Peers has inherited his father's mischeivousness as well as his second sight!  


* * *

"Ooh, and what's this, sister mine?" Peers Pevensie asked, scooping the legal pad off the desk in front of him and giving it a critical stare.

Ramona Pevensie's eyebrows went up as if to say _you did not just do that_. She snatched at the pad, but Peers batted her hand away. "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," he read out loud, flipping through the papers quickly. "Sounds familiar."

"It's just Mum's story," she said, still trying to get it back from him.

"You wrote it down?"

"As much as we could remember. Peers, would you give it back?" Her brother grinned wryly and shook his head. Ignoring the fact that they were both in their twenties, Ramona launched out of her chair and tackled him. He shouted, managing to wriggle away. She grabbed his ankle as he rose, pulling him back down. After a short struggle, she snagged the book from his hand and went back to her chair.

He sighed wearily. "I let you win, you know." She scoffed and stuck her tongue out at him. He made a face back. "It's finished?"

Ramona nodded. "Finished it just a couple of days ago. Bonnie, Mum, Minda, and Sam are going to work on the return to Narnia and second battle of Beruna. Then they and Elinor are going to raid Lucy's journal for the voyage of the Dawn-Treader."

He frowned. "How come I was never consulted?"

"Because it started as a Christmas present _for_ you, silly," she said, giving him a disdainful glance. "Things got a little out of hand. You're welcome to read it. _When _I say you can," she said as he reached for the legal pad again. "I'm sure you can help with the rest."

"And that's the reason for the nom de plume, then? Because things got out of hand?" She nodded. "And you're going to try to get it published." Another nod. They were silent for a moment before Peers' curiosity got the better of him. "'Mona? What's the name mean?"

She glanced back down. "Why, Caspian Shasta Lewis, of course. For three very unlikely heroes who probably never thought they would rise to such greatness."

"All right. Caspian I understand. Shasta I understand. Who is Lewis?"

Ramona smiled. "Lewis _Young_, Peers. Both of them."

He thought for a moment and grinned devilishly. "They'll be so embarrassed. Can I tell them, please?"

* * *

**Thank you Liv, grahamcracker, BabyBeaver, LucyofNarnia, and Mighty Lion for your reviews! I was very much pleased that you enjoyed The Sentries and slightly surprised (and somewhat scared) at the desire for another Scene of the Horses waking up. I was _going _to do one of Aslan informing the castle of the Pevensies' leaving...I suppose I shall have to figure out both. I'm somewhat enjoying the Scenes about the Pevensies without them being there. I also have a rough draft of a longer, rather fluffy Scene from the point of view of a cab driver just minutes after Roger and Susan's wedding. Let me know which you'd like to see, and as always, if you have any suggestions send them my way! Also, let me know how you like the SecondGens, because I may be so inclined to handle another like this.**

**State Contest is this Saturday; wish me luck and pray for me!**


	13. Breathe

**Title: **Breathe**  
Length: **175 words**  
Summary: **Susan's mind runs wild after a battle. **  
Reason to my Rhyme: **Yes, this is the story based on the WarPrompt: Breathe. _Finally._ It took me a while to come up with something. Also, to my usual fans, I apologize for continuing to dangle Belraid in front of your noses. That topic will be addressed later on in _Odes_. 

* * *

It had been a particularly bad skirmish—"another Belraid," they'd called it, and the expression for something that started out as child's play and turned into a disaster was quite accurate. Edmund had been engaged in diplomatic work in the Somerset Isles, leaving Peter to lead the army alone.

It had nearly cost him his life.

Susan leaned back into the hollow of his shoulder. Caring for the wounded while Lucy fought her own illness had put the Gentle Queen in a rather grim state of mind. She was currently perfectly content to rest against her sleeping brother and listen to him breathe. _In…out…in…out…Life is such a delicate thing,_ she thought. _It takes so much effort to bring it into the world and so little to take it out again._

Peter sighed softly and shifted a little. Susan put her arm around his waist and braced him against the bumping of the carriage headed back to Cair Paravel. As she did, she tried desperately not to think about what would happen if his steady breathing…simply…stopped.

* * *

**Thank you to BabyBeaver, Bartholo, Shizuku, and LucyofNarnia for your reviews of the last Scene!**


	14. The Fifth Grace

**Title: **The Fifth Grace**  
Length: **539 words**  
Summary:** Susan and Roger get one of the greater shocks of their lives.**  
Reason to my Rhyme: **No, this isn't really connected to _Graced of Aslan._ If you have read _Masks_ (Which you should, since this whole series is circular ;) ), you would know that Roger and Susan eventually get married, Roger takes Susan's last name, they have four children, and their eldest, Peers, inherits Roger's Grace. This is how they discovered that last fact...

* * *

"Tad? Mummy?" Six-year-old Elinor whispered, pale and nervous.

"What's the matter, Lucy Lin?" Roger asked, frowning at the obvious distress on his youngest's face. "Su?" he called into the kitchen.

"Peers is crying, Tad," the girl said, clear brown eyes widening. Susan stood in the doorway, concern creasing her brow. Eleven-year-old Peers hadn't cried in years.

"I'll go up, Su," Roger said, standing and patting Elinor's head. "Mummy will put you to bed, all right, Elinor?"

Susan stepped forward and swept the girl into her arms as they started upstairs. "Can you tell me why Peers is crying?" she asked, turning down the opposite as Roger.

"I don't know, Mummy," she said, shivering in Susan's grip. "He kissed me good night and went all cross-eyed and ran into his room, crying."

Susan bit her lip. "Did he say he hurt anywhere?"

"No. He just started crying."

She carried the girl into her room and started tucking her in. "He didn't have any reason at all?"

"No."

"Susan?"

"Just a moment, Roger. Good night, Elinor, love. Try to sleep."

"Good night, Mummy."

The Gentle Queen quickly strode out of Elinor's room, across the hall, and into Peers'. The poor boy was not just crying, but sobbing hysterically into his helpless father's arms, crying out for his mother every third or fourth sob.

"Hang on. Your mother's coming," Roger said in a pained voice, cradling his son.

"What is it?" Susan asked, crossing the room and sitting next to the two men in her life.

"M-Mum!" Peers burst, launching himself into her arms and hugging her with a grip to rival a python's. "Mum, mum, mum!"

"What is it, sweetheart? What's the matter?"

"He wouldn't tell me anything. Just kept asking for you," Roger said, pain and fear shimmering in his eyes.

"Shhh. Hush, Peers. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

"Mum," he said, soaking her shoulder with tears.

"It's okay, baby. What happened? Did you get scared? Are you hurt?"

"Mum…I saw…I saw…"

"What? What did you see?"

"I saw-I saw—saw you. And you were h-hurt, Mum, and th-th-there was b-blood everywhere—" He broke off in another hiccupping, sobbing fit.

Susan and Roger exchanged looks of shock. "When did you see this, Peers?" Roger asked.

"K-kissing E-elinor-r good n-night. It just…was th-there. I got dizzy and it was there."

Roger shot a glare at his wife. "You never told me you were injured."

"I think it was during the Western Patrol," Susan answered, her voice taking on a distinctly royal, militaristic tone. "Eighth year. I was supposed to meet Edmund at the Table and took a dagger to the shoulder in a heated skirmish."

"And you never _told _me?"

"It wasn't as if it _mattered,_ Dear. It would only worry you. Look, now you're worried, and it was a long time ago."

"You don't have a scar."

"That's the beauty of Fireflower juice."

"_You needed the cordial?" _Roger grew considerably paler. Peers was torn between wailing again and staring at his parents in horror and confusion.

"None of this is helping our son right now," Susan hissed. "Peers, listen to me. You seem to have inherited a gift of your father's…I'm going to tell you a story..."

* * *

**I've had lots of SecondGen/Susan muse lately...odd. For those of you wanting to read the Post-Wedding Scene...I shall get that up as soon as I figure out what I did with the handwritten story...**


	15. Of Blind Brothers And Ancient Affairs

**Title:** Of Blind Brothers And Ancient Affairs  
**Length:** 784 Words  
**Summary:** Ever wondered about the Pevensie's Narnian love lives?  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** Happy Valentine's Day, all! Also, check out the title. Double alliteration for the win? (unless that last one is assonance...)  


* * *

Aminda Carlton moaned in utter agony and flopped onto the couch at Pevensie Place, pressing a pillow to her face.

Edmund Pevensie turned from waving his brother goodbye to giving the poor girl a sympathetic smile. "Don't feel too badly, Minda," he said.

"_Too_ badly?" she answered, the pillow muffling her words. "Edmund. Your. Brother. Is. Blind."

The young man's grin widened. "Yes, but he always was. That's what I was about to tell you."

The pillow was suddenly gone and Edmund found himself staring at a mournful pair of sea green eyes. He laughed. "It's the truth," he told her. "He had girls from everywhere practically _throwing _themselves at him. He never noticed, even when they completely defied social standards and did things like, say, sneaking into his room in the middle of the night."

"They _didn't._" She rolled onto her stomach, whole face alight with a mixture of amusement and horror. "And here I always thought Narnia was such a wholesome place…"

"It wasn't until our last year that he started growing attached," Edmund continued. Lucy came into the room with Paravel at her side. She sat across from her brother and cast him a confused look. "Minda's depressed. Talking about Peter's love life," he explained, which made her snort back a laugh.

"_What_ love life?" she said. "Even in Narnia he was absolutely oblivious to anything that resembled affection."

"That's what I was just saying," Edmund said. "Our last year he started courting—nothing serious, but just casually noticing the attention he was getting. I think a month before we left he was beginning to like a foreign princess from…where again?"

"I forget," Lucy said with a vague hand wave. "But you see, Minda, you're not doing anything wrong. It's just Peter."

"But it's so _frustrating_," she gasped, clutching at the pillow. "I _love_ your brother—hand to _Aslan_, I love your brother like I've never loved anyone before. But he looks _straight through_ me—"

"It could be worse," Lucy said with a shrug.

"_How?_"

"Did we ever tell you about _Susan's_ time in Narnia?"

Sensing a story, the Dreamer sat up. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"There was a joke running around the whole country," Edmund said, eyes sparkling. "There were only three male-types she would allow herself to become close to. Me, Pete, and her Horse, Marshall. And he wasn't even her Horse until the last year or so."

"She courted, yes," Lucy said. "And she considered marrying several dignitaries. But it was all just for show, really. She had no interest in marriage. She was a completely different person that the one you see now. What's the name of her current beau?"

"Who cares?" Edmund said with a shrug.

Lucy gave him a malicious grin. "Speaking of _current beaus_, how do you think _Myrtle_ would feel if we told her about _your_ Narnian…affairs?"

"I never did!" Edmund gasped, but his face turned as red as a tomato.

Aminda laughed at the sight, frustrations forgotten. "What's _this_, now?"

"Ed here was _quite_ the young Romeo while we ruled." Lucy's grin grew and grew until it was practically swallowing her whole face. Edmund was turning purple. "He had a different girl on his arm every two weeks and he _flirted_ most hideously, even if his current lady was around. I'm not really sure if any of them _minded—_"

"I was young and foolish," the Just King said defensively.

"Yes, Ed. Young and foolish—_the entire fifteen year reign._"

"What about you, Luce?" Aminda asked. "You never found anyone in Narnia?"

The younger teen shrugged. "I've never really…I mean…toward the end of our second visit, I did have a crush on Caspian. We were about the same age, in some ways, and I respected and admired him. It was the most pleasant kind of crush that makes you utterly comfortable just to hold his hand and smile together, and while I was sad to see him go, I wasn't…devastated for months afterward or anything."

"Lucy was always too busy to court anyone, during our reign," Edmund added with a sort of hushed respect. "I imagine she's too busy now, too."

"Won't Sam be disappointed?"

Lucy shook her head. "Oh, no. Sam and I have an understanding."

"Ah." Quiet now, Minda turned to face the door as if watching Peter's shadow.

"Cheer up," Edmund said, rising and tapping her shoulder. "Someday he'll open his eyes and there you'll be. Soon."


	16. Ode to an Unexpected Victory

**Title:** Ode to the Unexpected Victory  
**Length:** 1000 Words  
**Summary:** Not all surprising things are bad, and not all training sessions are painful...  
**Reason to my Rhyme:** I just wanted to write an action scene. No real reason for it. I figured you guys might want to see more of Edmund and Peter on the practice courts. Throw in a little Poet/Soldier lore and a dash of humor and...bam.

* * *

"Parry, Peter!" Orieus barked as he watched his student jump out of the way of Edmund's swinging blade. "You _have_ to remember to parry!"

"Granted, that was a wide blow," Edmund's teacher Cotton the Rabbit said, raising up on his haunches to better see past Orieus' head. The centaur shifted and Cotton nearly fell from his back. "Watch it! I can't catch myself if I fall!"

"Ooh, look at that," Tabbarack the Bear said excitedly to the other centaur, Sybella. "Did you see that double-step? Didn't Cotton show him that last week?"

"Edmund learns fast," Sybella answered. "There's the dip with his sword hand right before the—Oh. Peter's quicker than I remember!"

"That would have worked beautifully if Peter hadn't blocked it," Groul the Leopard said, twitching her tail in dismay. "Oh—did Edmund just step on Peter's toes?"

"He's getting braver," Cotton called, ears moving up and down with each little clang of metal-on-metal.

"Or dirtier," Orieus said. "I still don't like this 'no rules' rule…"

"Peter needs to know what to expect when he comes across a 'Poet, and Edmund needs the practice," Tabbarack said again. "Aha! Great pass, Ed!"

"His guard was low," Groul argued.

"His guard was fine," Sybella said. "His footwork was a little shaky."

"Why can't Peter hit him today?" Orieus moaned.

Edmund and Peter's swords struck. They looked at each other between the crossed blades, then turned to their teachers. "We're trying to concentrate over here," Peter shouted at them. "Do you think you could _keep it down_ a little?"

"Sorry, Majesties," Sybella called back, swishing her tail, amused. "We shall restrain ourselves.

"Thanks," Edmund replied before turning his attention back onto his brother.

The swords parted and met again, in a downstroke this time. Peter attacked and Edmund parried. Edmund attacked and Peter parried. No one seemed to be getting anywhere very quickly. After another pass, the Just King smirked.

A dull horror sank into Peter's bones. When Edmund smirked like that, it meant he had a particularly Poetic idea. "What are you planning?" he asked a little breathlessly.

"Nothing you'll like, dear brother," came the cryptic answer. Edmund struck from the side. Peter parried and attacked from the top. Edmund parried and took a small step left. Peter moved right and swung toward Edmund's head. Edmund blocked it and struck from the side once more. They repeated the motions, creating a tight pattern in the training ring.

"Edmund!" Sybella snapped, her voice harsh. "_What_ do you think you're doing?"

"I could be wrong," Cotton said, frowning. "But it looks like a drill."

"Set Five," Orieus said with the shadow of a grin. "Six years since drilling and he still falls right back into step."

"Stop that and attack!" Tabbarack shouted.

Edmund's shifting gaze flitted over to his teachers as he moved into Set Six. Peter ignored the calls not meant for him, seeming far more comfortable in the training drill. Edmund glanced down at his feet—he actually only just remembered Sets Six and Seven and was unsure about footing. Peter's sword shone as it shot toward him. Edmund barely blocked in time, but followed up with his next strike. He wished his teachers would stop yelling at him. He stepped back and let Peter take the lead, checking his hands and feet, concentrating on his brother's face. He was looking for something.

As they moved into Set Seven, he found it. Peter's face was relaxing into a determined grimace. His blue eyes were faintly glassy. His attacks had more power behind them. Edmund smirked once more. Now was the time to make his move.

Edmund started small. He followed the pattern a few more beats before adding an extra step to his strikes. Peter blinked once and stumbled the first time, but after that didn't notice the addition. Just as he was about to progress into Set Eight, Edmund threw an extra side strike into the mix. Peter faltered and blocked. This confused him, but the glassy look remained in his eyes—his mind was clear and his body was thinking for him.

The 'Poets on the sidelines went quiet.

Edmund worked a jump into the pattern the next time Peter was required to swing low. He sailed over the strike and elbowed his brother's nose for good measure. Peter jumped back, blinking and reaching for his nose "Sorry," Edmund said. "Clumsy of me. Shall we keep going?"

"Haven't won yet, have I?" Peter stepped back into the drill. Edmund didn't parry the next strike, but ducked under it, kicking Peter's knees. Peter yelped, barely catching himself.

"Can't claim that that was an accident, though," Edmund said.

Peter growled and sprang at him. Which was a mistake, and had Peter not still been trapped in the trance-like state the drills induced, he would have realized it. Edmund wrestled Leopards who used that same move and could almost keep up.

Edmund dodged the attack, kicked Peter's ribcage while he was still airborne, and thumped him in the small of the back with the sword hilt as he fell.

Peter hit the ground hard, gasping for air, hand tightening almost convulsively around his sword. Out of nowhere came another sword tip, slapping at Peter's hand with the flat of the blade and flicking Peter's sword out of his grip and far out of reach with the next move. The sword point then moved up and settled at the base of his throat. Peter's now alert eyes followed the point up to a familiar face.

"Say it," came Edmund's voice from somewhere above him. It was that mouth that moved, but it couldn't have been Edmund with the sword at his throat. Could it?

"Craven," came the stunned customary response from Peter's own throat.

An equally stunned silence swept over the courts as the previously chatty tutors stared at the scene. After Edmund sheathed his sword and pulled his brother to his feet, Orieus broke the spell.

"I'm sorry—what just happened?"

* * *

**Just two names down here this time—hiddenfilly and kissoftheblackrose, thanks so much for reviewing and I'm glad you liked the Valentine gift. I always saw Edmund as just a bit of a Casanova when I was reading the books, if for no other reason than girls go for the grave, silent type. Meanwhile, Magnificence is rather proud and haughty and doesn't always notice what's right in front of its face...as evidenced in _this_ scene as well...and it just fit my characters. And yes, Peter and Minda do get together. Sort of. For a short time, at least.**


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